Dreaming of Butterflies
by Erithemaeus
Summary: Even the greatest of Saints are human. The Maiden of Orleans isn't any different. An alternate perspective, and a look at the person behind the legend.
1. Chapter 1

[_Dreaming of Butterflies_]

She was a future Saint. He was nothing more than a wizard. And yet, when he stares out onto his domain, watching the youth bounding through fields of wheat without a care in the world and a smile on her face, he vowed to protect that smile, no matter what.

"Rêve! Look what I found!" He stares onward, a thin smile on his face as he leans in to take a closer look at what the child had brought him. A bunch of gladiolus were proffered up to his face, and he flinches at the scent that wafted off from them. His verdant green eyes met innocent blue hues, leaning back on his staff with a hint of a grimace on his face.

"You… don't like it?"

He blanched. "No, not like that", he quickly assured the future Saint, shaking his head and damning himself for even showing such an expression in front of a child. He quickly took the bundle of flowers and stuffed them into his robe. "It's just that… I had some bad experiences with flowers back in my time. It's not you, Jeanne."

"Are you sure?"

"I am." His cheek twitched, a blank visage forming on his face to prevent himself from laughing at the frown on the child's face. She probably thought that it was intimidating, but the child was half-correct in her opinion. Her expression was intimidating due to the sole fact that he couldn't laugh at her for doing so. "Speaking of being sure, it's time for you to go, little one. Sundown is in a few more paces, and you wouldn't want to be caught after dusk around here."

"But what about you?"

Sometimes, his impatience got the better of him. He rolled his eyes, raising his staff by an inch. "I'm a wizard, Jeanne", he said, simultaneously conjuring a ball of warm light on his other hand. He didn't need to explain, given the child's wide-eyed wonder at the bouncing ball of light that leapt onto her hands. She squealed and tried throwing it back towards him, but the ball of light stuck towards her. "If you ever get caught in the dark, use that light to find your way back towards your home alright?"

"Uh…"

"Promise me?" He leaned forward, a smile on his face while sticking out his little finger. The child quickly nodded, all but launching herself towards him and shaking his hand with her own. He laughed, the creases on his face momentarily fading as she quickly bade her farewells and sprinted back towards the village.

"That child never ceases to amaze me", he observed, leaning back on his spot as he watched the swirl of colors that came with dusk. A small smile formed on his face, his arms crossing over his chest at another successful day, even as his eyes unconsciously gazed towards the hamlet that housed his ward. It would seem like there was a festival going on in the village, but the sounds…

His eyes narrowed, hand grasping tighter on his staff as he slowly stood off his porch overlooking his domain. Tiny little embers of flame danced beyond the hills of his home, slowly marching round all over the quaint village, and a flare of disbelief rose from the depths of his heart before he began sprinting towards the direction of the township.

Was it because of his interference? Doubt warred within his mind, yet even then he hastened his pace, an image of a latch opening to reveal his secrets to the world around him. His body thrummed with ethereal power, manifesting as wisps of purple light, and he glided over the fields of wheat as if they never even existed, the scenery passing before him in a blur.

A moment passed before the walls of the village stood before him, wooden walls currently set ablaze by torches of fire. Fear and panic gripped his heart for an instant, but it was not for his own safety, as he swiftly turned a club aimed for his head with a gentle strike of his staff and knocked his attacker unconscious. No – his mind searched out through every inch and cranny of the entire township, mapping each and every single individual inside in less than a second, and his feet shot off once again.

"Jeanne! Where are you!?" He screamed through a hoarse throat, the smoke filtering through his nose ignored as he walked through the flames without being burned once. In the area he searched, tapping his staff against the ground with every frantic step he took in order to give him a greater amount of detail. Panic continued on surging through his veins even as he found his charge and all but burst inside a household, flames burning the wooden walls with two corpses pooling blood in the wake of a group of men.

Inside the group was his charge.

Murder flashed through his eyes as his mind lashed out in rage, slamming every person into the burning walls and holding him there. In the center he could see his ward blubbering inelegantly, eyes wide and continuous tears being dried up by the heat. "Come on!" He said, grabbing the child's arm and snapping her out of her trance as she was dragged with him without any resistance.

He kicked down the door, the iron hinges snapping at the force of his foot as they entered a hellscape. Houses burned around them, bandits rounding up villagers and ushering them with raised weapons towards the square. Irritation flecked at the edges of his eyes, an urge to render his special brand of revenge to every bandit in the area, but he stayed his hand for the moment. There were more important things to attend to.

Jeanne stared at the scene with choked sobs and weak legs, her shoulders shivering at each and every villager that she knew being cut down without mercy. Guilt pooled around the edges of his heart and some lanced through the walls that he had put up, but he quickly shook his head and reassessed his priorities. Jeanne must remain safe.

"Kid." He tugged on the child's arm, but he got no reaction. "Kid!" This time, he tugged harder, and he was able to wrench her gaze from the surrounding slaughter. He could see her wishes, and he nodded without even thinking about whatever kind of consequences that he might accrue for the future. "JEANNE!"

Finally, she blinked and focused her attention on him. "Good", he whispered under his breath, drawing something from his robes and wrapping it around the future Saint's hands, "Look, I need you to go back to the shack. I'll take care of this."

"B-But the Pierres–"

"We can't do anything about them." She was about to speak, but her lips thinned when she saw the guilt that flashed through his eyes –"Look. We can't do anything for the Pierres. But the rest of the village needs my help. I can't do this if I don't know that you're safe." The child bit her lip, and he gently shook her shoulders to slowly ease her attention back towards him. "… Jeanne. I'll come back. Trust me, alright?"

Slowly, she shook her head. He couldn't help but sigh, flicking her on the forehead as she staggered back and tried to speak. She fell asleep before she could do so, his arms catching her before she fell, and he sighed as he retrieved a gemstone from his pockets. He muttered something into it, and the gemstone slowly expanded to form a caricature of a hunting dog, its ruby color eerily reflecting the fires that raged around the village.

"Take her to the shack." He commanded with eyes half-lidded, his mouth beginning to amend his orders. "Make sure that the two of you aren't seen, and protect her life at all costs. You can only deactivate when I return."

Ruby eyes gleamed with intelligence more complex than bestial instinct, bowing once towards him before ushering the sleeping child onto its back. With a single bound, the hunting dog began its journey back towards his shack, becoming nothing more than a red gleam of light just a few seconds later.

A pained sigh escaped his lips as he turned back towards the ensuing carnage, tapping a finger on his staff and attracting the attention of every bandit in the area. Most saw him as easy prey, all but leaping forward in a maddened craze at the sight of jewelries on his person. An invisible force pushed the first bandit back however, landing him in the path of a burning shanty as his dying screams echoed through the night.

"… Maybe it is my fault." He muttered to himself, his eyes hardening with grim determination as he stared on, sweeping his staff with fires trailing from the back of the ashen-black wood.

"You picked the wrong hamlet to raid tonight." He snarled, keeping his fury leashed behind a rational mask as he slammed his staff onto the ground, sending a wave of fire that repelled those who attempted to strike him down. "I'll make sure that your bodies remain as nothing more than charred ashes to make sure that the lot of you be remembered as laughingstocks for the rest of your eternal death."

She was a future Saint. He was nothing more than a wizard. And yet, he couldn't help but put a bit more anger in his revenge against them, in order to deny the fact that his charge would become less of a child after this. Sooner or later, fate decreed that she be decried a Saint.

If that was to be the case, then fate would find its worst obstacle that it would ever encounter.


	2. Chapter 2

[_Dreaming of Butterflies_]

She was a future Saint. He was nothing more than a wizard. Yet as he stares into her hardened cerulean orbs, a part of him knew that she was one step closer to becoming the figure known in his visions. Famous. Saintly. An icon of hope. All titles granted posthumously. An outcome that he wanted to stop, yet the first seeds of doubt remained. It felt like he had failed, on some fundamental level. That this was only just the beginning.

"Train me."

"No." He snapped back, eyes moving towards her parents. They held her close, arms seemingly wrapping around her like some sort of cocoon, and both of them were glaring at him with all the hate that they were able to muster. "Your parents are against this, and so I'll respect their wishes."

At the very least, her parents were confused by his statement. Not with Jeanne, however. She refused to budge, turning her chin up to try and meet his gaze. She spectacularly failed, and a quick snicker erupted from one of her parents. Before they turned back to glaring at him, of course.

"Rêve, the bandits–"

"Leave those to the militia." I said, casting a wary glance at her father. He nodded in turn and crossed his arms, mind already set. It was good, all things considered. Only Jeanne was a child, and thus leaves plenty of space for rebellion. It would seem like he would be filling his domain with his familiars once more.

"They're useless!" He chuckles at that, watching her father's expression turn into something sour. Jeanne's mother seemed to be holding in her laughter as well, and he took a step away from the bickering husband and wife. Coincidentally, it made him bump against the future Saint. "Please?"

"No means no. Convince your parents first, then I'll consider training you. Seems like a promise?"

Instead of normally agreeing with him, she frowned. "That means that there's still a chance for you to not train me, even after I get my parents' permission." She grumbled, and he simply replied with a jaunty little smile as Jeanne huffed and stomped back towards her parents.

... He idly noted to check up his wards for any future intrusion. Just in case. Nevertheless, he watched as her family turned to bade him their farewells, leaving him alone in the shack once more. Business as usual for him.

Green eyes scanned his entire house, mapping every little detail and comparing it to the blueprint that he had on his mind a few minutes ago. His caution eased when he found nothing of importance changed, only for him to jolt the moment someone knocked on his door.

A bolt of lightning halted in its tracks, dissipating inches away from the wooden door. He sighed, leaning on his staff for balance as he looked through the peephole and found Jeanne's father standing on the porch.

Hinges creaked as he shived the door open, meeting gazes with the older man. "Yes?" He asked with a raised brow, prompting Jeanne's father to motion towards the fields of wheat that surrounded his house.

"You want to harvest the wheat." He said a moment later, eyes narrowing at the guilty look on the man's face. It wasn't as if he was blind to the village's situation, no, and his heart yearned for the rest of the survivors to stand back up on their feet, but it won't do. The fields were special, gifted onto him by the land, and its bounties were for him and the earth to share.

"Wait here."

He went back into the house, closing the door behind him just in case. While he didn't want the thought of others going into his domain and harvesting his field, he felt a lot more secure with his plan of action. Verdant green eyes searched through the cupboards, dust fluttering through the air of his house, and he manages to retrieve a burlap bag from the depths of the cabinet.

A quick yank pulled the bag out of the cupboard, a grimace forming on his face at the weight of what he was holding. He moved his fingers, the weight of the bag suddenly disappearing as he moved it towards a nearby counter, and he quickly loosened the knot to reveal a sack full of wheat seeds. A flicker of nostalgia crossed his eyes before it disappeared once more, and he grabbed the entire sack of wheat seeds and began hauling them towards the door.

"It's time that I got rid of them, anyway..." He muttered to himself as he wrenched his door open once more, dumping the sack of seeds by the older man's feet.

"Use this. They'll grow by the next season, regardless of the weather." He intoned, eyes looking over his field before settling back on the owlish gaze that Jeanne's father sent him. "You have a few sacks with you?"

"Wagon", the older man corrected, "It's some ways from here."

"Then get that."

Jeanne's father bowed, and promptly left his house to retrieve the wagon. He waited by the porch, humming a tune to himself as he slowly went around and inspected the floorboards of his house, nodding in relief when he saw the pristine condition of the runes that he had carved. The inspection only lasted for a few moments, and by the time that he went back to the porch, there was already a sizable wagon waiting for him.

Enough to sustain a village for a few months, if they rationed. Long enough so that they would be able to harvest their crops the moment they ran out of food.

"You ought to stand back." He warned to Jeanne's father, "By the porch would be far enough." The older man bowed once more before cautiously stepping onto his premises, watching as a sudden screech of wind resounded through the air.

In an instant, the fields of wheat around his house fell to the ground, cut up by an unseen wind. A harsh breath escapes his lips as he begins to lean on his staff, face set in absolute focus as the cut wheat began rising from the ground and was transferred to the wagon with brief gusts of wind. Within seconds the wagon was fully-loaded, and a harsh gasp escapes his lips as he staggers to balance his staff. He fumbles through his robes, bringing out a small sapphire and smashing it against his skin.

A sigh of relief escapes him as bits of gemstone pierce through his skin, injecting their energy into his body. He stood a little straighter, his balance becoming better, and he yanked out his staff off the ground before turning towards Jeanne's father. "It's done."

The older man blinked once, staring at the wagon before them with disbelieving eyes, before a hoarse laugh escapes their lips. "It would seem like Jeanne's words are true – you really _are _a wizard." He began walking towards the wagon, petting the two oxen pulling the cart. "I thought that she was merely joking about you."

"She does have an active mind", he agreed, nodding along as he trudged over towards the oxen. They turned at his presence, eyes narrowing at his approach, and he stopped just a few feet away from the wagon. A small smile formed on his lips, before turning back towards Jeanne's father with crinkling eyes. "Well, I'm afraid that I have some business to attend to. Unless you still have something to ask of me...?"

"Yes." The older man promptly replied, "How are you going to feed yourself for the coming days?"

"I have my ways."

"That is not enough." He narrows his eyes, gripping his staff even tighter. "Boy, while I am glad that you are helping us recover, I fear for your current state. Your magic..." Weathered brown eyes move onto his sleeve, matted by the tiniest drops of blood. "... It has a cost, isn't it?"

"Such is not your business." He spat out, hissing his teeth before calm washed over him an instant later. A silent curse passed his lips, before guilt flashed across his eyes and his staff splintered from his grip. "I'm sorry, I..."

"Sonny", a hand laid upon his shoulder, and verdant green eyes stared into hazel orbs, "You're always welcome at our household. It's the minimum that we can do for the person that saved us from the bandits."

_And protecting my daughter, _the words went unsaid. A grimace formed on his lips as the hand drew back, before the older man began their walk back to town. The hand felt reassuring, a warmth against the coldness of his existence. He knew the truth however, and the knife twists even further at the guilt.

She was a future Saint. He was nothing more than a wizard. If he wanted to spare her from her eventual fate, then he needs to keep her reasons to follow her fate to zero. Saving her entire family from banditry was merely a step in a greater goal. Was it truly altruistic? He didn't know.

His clenched fists however, were enough to give his true thoughts on the matter.


	3. Chapter 3

[_Dreaming of Butterflies_]

She was a future Saint. He was nothing more than a wizard. Yet, when he glances up from his book to investigate an incessant itch at the back of his mind, his face pales upon seeing Jeanne swinging a sword amongst the field of growing wheat, green grass brushing against her hips. A startled cry escapes his lips, balance going out of whack as he tips his rocking chair sideways, and he falls off the porch with an indignant squawk of pain. As his mind clears, he hears the rustling of clothes somewhere behind him, and he slowly pulls himself off the ground with a flat look on his green orbs.

He turns towards the half-grown field of wheat, finding a head of gold amidst a sea of green. A half-hearted scowl crosses his lips as he quickly rushes over, playing down the part of his mind that wanted to laugh at the attempt, and he soon stands over his objective with hands on his hips.

"What are you doing here, Jeanne?"

The head of gold froze. Silence filled the air for seconds before a faint voice spoke up. "W-Who is this Jeanne that you speak of?"

In another time, he might've humoured her. His objective came first however, and he lifted the child up by the scruff of her clothes until she stood on her own will. Cerulean orbs strayed everywhere, glancing at opportune objects that most pointedly _weren't _his eyes, and he simply lets out a low rumble from the depths of his throat. Watching. Waiting. Judging.

A few more seconds have passed before she finally caved. "... Alright, it's me."

"You snuck off, didn't you?" She nodded in response, and a small headache promptly manifested by his head. An aggrieved sigh escaped his lips, and yet as much as he wanted to scold her for worrying her parents (and potentially getting him into trouble with them, but he wouldn't just say such a selfish reason out loud), he couldn't. He knew how children's minds worked. It took a great deal of manoeuvring and trickery in order to get what he wanted, which usually came to down copious amounts of bribery. Flatly denying them would only stoke the fires of rebellion, and would even prompt them to do the exact same thing that you warned them about with greater enthusiasm.

Childhood. How he loathed such a phase of human life. "Look kid, I wouldn't mind if you trained." Cerulean eyes sparkled at that, a hint of something else bordering under their gaze, but he merely continued. "You were probably thinking that you needed to get stronger. That when some other bandits come for your village, you'd be willing to fight back." She flushed under his gaze, stammering out some form of half-hearted denial that he merely ignored, and he stepped down to meet her gaze. "Now, I know how it feels. To become strong enough so that those you love would never be hurt again. But if you keep on pushing others away, then you'd be hurting the ones that you are trying to protect. Do you get what I'm saying?"

His subconscious hissed at him for his hypocrisy, but he waved down the flag of guilt that pierced his heart. Never mind his thoughts on the matter - what he needed is to make sure that she wouldn't go down the same path.

She nodded, sending a shot of relief flowing through him, coupled by a smidge of anxiety when she stared at him with a trembling gaze. "Rêve... What do I do now?"

A thin smile formed on his face as he patted her shoulder, inwardly dreading the incoming conversation. "At the very least, you need to tell your parents when you're leaving the village walls. Or better yet, just tell them that you're going to my house to train-"

"No." He sighed. He had expected such an immediate retort, but he was still trying to hope for a miracle. Sadly, miracles didn't exist.

"Jeanne, you know this is for your own good."

_"That's_ why I told my parents that I would be hanging out with you. I didn't tell them that I'd be _training _at your place." She looked smug at that revelation, and frankly, he could think that the child deserved it. Lying was both part and parcel of childhood, but telling half-truths by the age of twelve harvests? He wanted nothing more than to throttle her for doing so, but he didn't see the point in discouraging her from telling half-truths. It was a vital skill that she needed to learn, and he would encourage her growth in order to prepare her for what might or might not come depending on his actions.

It didn't mean that he couldn't be displeased by such a course of action, however. "Fine. But if you think that training yourself would be easy enough that all you need to do is swing a stick at air, then you're wrong."

"What do I need to do, then?" Her voice was steel, determination flashing through cyan orbs, and he felt a small grin form on his face.

"I am going to train you."

The moment the words left his lips, realization flashed through his eyes. Jeanne grinned, a sly glint finally coming forth from within innocent-looking eyes, and his face fell when she started celebrating her victory by running around and yelling how she won at the top of her lungs. He sighed, a hand slapping against his forehead, and he dragged it down as he began taking note of the migraine now spreading through the entirety of his head. He had been fooled. Played by a child. He couldn't simply take his words back, else she continue on with her own brand of training, which would lead to more problems down the line.

He wanted to throttle himself for letting his guard down, even against a kid. Such an event would never happen again.

Still, his pride bruised and ached over being played, and his mind immediately went to work on gathering his vengeance. A second later, a grin split his lips, verdant green eyes flashing with the promise of revenge, and he called out to the child who was now busy swinging her stick at nonexistent enemies with a grin on her face.

"Jeanne! We're going to start your training now!"

With all the exuberance of a child at twelve harvests, she dashed over towards him, grin still in place that hinted at the smugness that laid within. He was sure that she would never forget to remind him of his lapse in attention at each and every opportunity. Children were unnecessarily cruel like that. "So, what do I need to do?"

A thin smile formed on his lips, silver tongue already working through every possibility. "Well first, the main thing that one needs is a strong body. This is why if you want to grow strong enough, you need to eat your greens at the dining table..." His mind cackled in glee at the face of the child before him, blood paling from their face as they began to understand the ramifications of their rash decision. Already he could see Jeanne's mind turning, trying to find an escape, until he finished his opening tirade.

"Of course, if you don't want to be strong enough to help your parents, then I would highly suggest that-"

"I'll do it!"

Hook, line, and sinker.

She was a future Saint. He was nothing more than a wizard. Yet as another day passes over the quaint town, with golden rays of sunshine dyeing the landscape with its bright colour, he rationalised his own rash decision as nothing more than mere preparation for a future possibility. It would seem that whatever methods used to repel it, fate would inevitably have its way. Obstacle or not.


	4. Chapter 4

[_Dreaming of Butterflies_]

She was a future Saint. He was nothing more than a wizard. Yet he couldn't help but feel a flash of vindictiveness cross his gaze the moment he sees Jeanne exhausted and heaving for a gulp of air. Truly, revenge was a dish served hot. "Done with your run? You still have a lot more to go."

Jeanne snarls and glares at him, only for her to cough and hackle once more. He sighs, falling by her side and placing a hand on her forehead before letting magical energy course through his Circuits. Hay fever. Who knew that she was allergic to flowers? "Come inside, have a glass of water, and then rest. You've done enough for today."

"But–"

"What did I first teach you the moment I started training you?" He asks with a tilted head, watching as the child beside him squirm to speak the answer. So he doesn't let her. Ruffling her wheat-like hair, a soft smile forms on his lips. "Know your limits. You currently have an illness, so don't move too much while I call for your parents."

"Carry me back?" She begs, holding out her arms towards him, and his brows furrow in confusion. What brought this on? "Please, Rêve?"

A sigh spills from his lips. Truly, he spoils her too much. "Fine", he snaps, grumbling amidst the future Saint's cheers as she leaps onto his back with a smile and a giggle. He shifts his balance to accommodate for the extra weight, and he sets off towards the shack with his ward in tow.

Pulling out an engraved ruby from the folds of his robes, he utters a few short words and tosses the crystal onto the ground in front of him, a wolf with dark red fur morphing to life. "I'd like you to deliver a message to Jeanne's parents", he says, much to the quirked eyebrow of his familiar, "Jeanne's fallen ill. I'll try to make a draught for faster recovery, but her parents needed to be informed about this matter."

The wolf scoffs, turning around him once or twice before bounding off across the fields, a red blur in a sea of growing wheat. A smile forms on his face, staring at the back of his familiar before arriving at his shack, and pushing the door open and depositing his ward on the bed.

"Rêve..." She mutters, face scrunching up whilst shivering in her sleep, "It's cold... and hot..."

"You're going to get better soon, kid." He mutters under his breath, robes trailing behind him as hands search the cupboards for the ingredients to the draught. Elderflower, ginger, peppermint, along with a few cloves of garlic. Place under a strained cloth and mush to a paste before tying it closed and dipping it into a draught of clean water. A sliver of magical energy heats up the liquid, steam rising from its lip a few minutes later, and he begins to stoke a fire just as the door opens and Jeanne's father enters his abode. Lucky that he left it open.

"Where is she?"

"By the bed", he calls, placing the earthen draught onto the fire and watching the clear water slowly gain a deep amber color. "It would seem like she was playing with flowers a little bit too much."

Jeanne's father reaches said bed, laying a hand on his daughter's neck to find her running a fever. "What do we do?"

"Let her drink this", he replies, moving the earthen draught out of the flames and using the sand nearby to smother out the fire. "Cold towels on her forehead. Make sure to change them when it gets warm. Until then, hope for the best."

His ward's father receives the earthen draught, tightly grasping onto the clay pot as hazel eyes meet verdant green. "Are you sure that this would work? Can't you do your magic?"

"I prefer to use it as a last resort." He replies back, his expression morphing into a frown upon seeing the state that his ward is in. Ideas cross his mind, none of them pretty, and he steels his expression. "It is better to solve these types of problems using mundane means first and foremost, rather than relying on magic itself as a crutch."

Jeanne's father stares at him, and a grimace forms on his lips. There was also the other matter, but none of them chose to bring it up. There was no need to at the moment, but the glance between the two of them tells that they would be talking about such a topic later.

"Take care of her for me while I'm gone", he says after a moment, bowing once to Jeanne's father before exiting his shack. Outside sat his familiar, their red fur standing on attention, and sharp earthen eyes turn towards its summoner in worry.

"It isn't going to take long, I promise." He says, kneeling down and ruffling the red wolf's hair before their entire essence morphs into a Ruby. "... Hopefully, at the very least. Though I wish to have done this sooner, there isn't much time until then."

Pain was a familiar feeling, a shudder coursing through his body as the air around him changes. He walks around to the back of his shack, a field of half-grown wheat meeting his gaze, and tendrils of emerald light coalesce from his fingers as he holds out his hand and steps forward into a kaleidoscope of colors.

For an instant, the pain is gone, replaced by a high that he never wanted to end. Skies shift in ever-changing colors, all of them so pleasing to the eye, yet he manages to steel all temptations and walk forth amongst the crystalline wheat, a stray hand ambling over the topaz tips as they make their way towards the figure located at the center of the field.

Sanctified. Hollow. Those were the words that could only describe the spot of land in front of him, a shimmering barrier preventing all of entry... save for one. He places a hand on the barrier, only for it to react violently and spark in outrage, and he rears his hand back just as a figure manifests in front of the sanctified space.

\- You are not supposed to be here, man out of time.

"I am a part of this world, as much as you try to deny me so." He echoes in turn, eyes drawing into a frown. "You do not have the right to hold the threads of fate away from one willing to cut down your puppets."

\- It is futile. For once, forever, and for the future that lies past, she is forever shackled to this burden. There is no escape, unless Humanity itself is lost.

His eyes narrow. An idea forms to mind. In an instant, the wheat surrounding him is twisted into crystalline blades, all hung by invisible winds and their tops pointed towards him.

\- Better to keep such thoughts in your head, man out of time. You are in my domain.

"Wrong." He snaps back, hand gripping tighter on his staff, "You are here out of desperation. Upon my interference, you had puppeted those bandits into her town, to give her a motivation to fight. The mere fact that you have to rely on this specific location to give your blessings is as much as an indicator as to what power you hold here."

\- And you believe yourself to be a part of this world?

"Of course", He airily replies, "A man out of time such as me is as much of a beast as the rest of the individuals living inside of this space."

\- Try as you might, but you will not be able to change her fate.

"Watch me", was his only reply, before he forcefully shut off the world around him. The changing skies diluted to an even orange, the crystalline wheat around him becoming their soft green, and pain wracked through his body once more as blood dribbled from his lips and he all but collapsed to the ground.

He hacked up blood from the depths of his throat, wheezing at the sudden onslaught of pain, and dug deep into the folds of his robe and slammed the ruby into the bloodied soil around him. The last vision that he remembers is a crimson wolf.

She was a future Saint. He was nothing more than a man out of time. And there was nothing more terrifying than finding out that time itself is not on your side.


End file.
